Wasn't the Herd Complete Without Me? (Part 4)
Part Four
One day, I want to be someone's moon - just not one of the stars. No matter how much a star shines, it's never enough. There is only ever a moon, stealing the stars' beloved gaze. Stars are compared and counted. The moon is simply worshipped. Stars ache to outshine, to overcompensate.
But for what? Being a star was always enough. It just needed to be reminded. It just needed to be loved.
Even something remarkable starts to feel invisible next to something that doesn't compete - that simply exists differently. It sits like discomfort, like a jigsaw piece forced into the wrong spot.
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